


Run

by Canadian_BuckBeaver



Category: FNAF, Five Nights at Freddy's
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Blood and Gore, Bonnie - Freeform, Canon Compliant, Captain Foxy, Character Death, Chases, Chica - Freeform, Death, Drinking, Five Nights at Freddy's 1, Five Nights at Freddy's World, Foxy - Freeform, Freddy Fazbear - Freeform, Freddy Fazbear's Pizza, Gen, Hooked, How Do I Tag, No Smut, Not Beta Read, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Reader can move, Reader-Insert, Security Guard, Survival Horror, fnaf - Freeform, night three, reader & foxy, sfw
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-19
Updated: 2018-02-19
Packaged: 2019-03-21 05:28:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,827
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13734123
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Canadian_BuckBeaver/pseuds/Canadian_BuckBeaver
Summary: You, a broke university student, decided to take a job as a security guard at an old pizzeria with a large turnover rate of staff.  It is only after night one that you truly understand why, and you snap on night three.  Can you survive?  Freddy, Bonnie and Chica are intent on capturing you.





	Run

**Author's Note:**

> FNAF was the first fandom I really got into, even before Undertale. Hopefully you enjoy!

You turned the corner of the darkened hallway fast, panting and slamming into a table, just missing the dark and slightly fuzzy shadow in front of you.  Cursing, you shoved the slab of plastic out of the way, legs still pumping, and your lungs burning for air.  You didn’t care that the cheap, plastic tablecloth slowly fluttered to the ground, nor that the paper party hats and napkins cascaded to the tiled ground.  As a security guard, you were supposed to look after the premises, protect the property of the management.

Fuck the management.  Your life was more precious than a failing pizzeria business.  So much more.  You should have never taken this job.  You were paid barely the minimum wage, the cheap bastards couldn’t even give you your own flashlight or uniform.  You were nothing but a plainclothes security guard doing the duties of something higher than a police officer.  Fucking cheap CEOs and their Goddamn profit margins.

You should have never chosen this stupid job.  The low wage was a glaring red flag, as was seeing the job repost itself in the local newspaper every few days or week.  High turnover due to stress you had once told yourself when you had seen it in the paper again.  Stress or just people who could not be damned to do the work required of them.

So why had you picked this job?  One – you loved pizza.  As a college student, it was a staple food and one that could be eaten at any time.  Pizza kept well in the fridge, pizza for breakfast, lunch or dinner… if you would be able to get a couple free slices, your food costs would nosedive, freeing up some much needed income.  Secondly – once again, you were a college student.  Your classes only went for a couple hours in the afternoon and evening, so the hours were perfect.  Sleep in in the morning till two, class from three to seven.  Get home, wash, supper and school work, perhaps sneak a nap, and then you could hit up the coffee joint for coffee and be in the office before your shift.  And you had figured that you would be able to sneak in some time for homework and projects.  All you were doing was watching a couple of old faded monitors, right?  Making sure a couple snot-nosed punks didn’t enter the premises after hours and screw with the animatronics…

But ooooh… how wrong you were.  Seeking Chica’s face for the first time in the window… it was something else.  You had known about the children disappearing years ago, supposedly being murdered.  It was what had started the decline of the rather successful franchise years ago.  But seeing the robots face, her normally happy and cheerful face morphed into something grotesque, filled with hatred, you just knew.  Something very wrong had gone down here…

And you were about to pay for their mistakes.

After you had gotten home from night one, you hadn’t even said hello to your roommate before going to the shared fridge and downing a beer.  And another.  And then another.  “Whoa chill!  Remember your liver isn’t as young as you think you are anymore,” they had said, watching you grab number five.  “It’s just a run-down pizzeria joint.  Is it really that bad, that rough, of a job?” they had asked.

You looked at him, slowly cracking open the beer and taking a careful sip.  “You have, no idea.” You simply told them before crawling into bed for a quick tortured sleep of lifeless eyes and children’s’ spirits, of fire and damnation.  Your roommate wouldn’t have understood, wouldn’t have believed you anyway.

But back to the present hour.  Here it was.  Night three and you couldn’t take it anymore.  Between Bonnie, Chica, and the odd Freddy appearance, you were surprised that you hadn’t shit your pants already.  Your coffee had already betrayed you, splashing onto your lap as you had hurriedly slammed the door shut on Bonnie.  The minimum wage just wasn’t worth it.  Not in exchange for your life or your health.  So, you made the rather stupid decision to run.  Run and hide, somewhere where they couldn’t find you, couldn’t get to you.  Perhaps get to the exit door and make a break for sweet freedom.

This was an area designed for children though, you had forgotten, and one that had barely survived the tragedy of children going missing and murdered within their very walls.  The security to keep children in, keep them from wandering off, was tightened.  It was designed to confuse and disorientate…

And with your nerves shot, the design did its architect proud.  You had already almost ran into Freddy’s arms into the dining room… almost sealing your fate.  Choosing between Freddy and dumping the table had been easy.  Now, now you needed the distance between the two of you.  Needed a place to hide.  To be safe.  To escape

Desperately you turned into another darkened hallway, the faint sounds of ungreased hinges slowly padding towards you.  The sound of Freddy’s mechanical laughter drawing ever closer.  With a small gasp, you threw yourself into an unlocked door, shoving it open with your body weight.  Judging by the small drips you were in the bathroom.  Not daring to turn on the lights you stumbled your way to the sinks, crouching and laying under the counter.  Hands clasped to your mouth and nose, muffling the sound of your breathing.

You waited there for what felt like an eternity, but you didn’t dare move. Instead, you lay there, stiff as a board.  The robots’ movements were rather repetitive, even when they spied you.  Freddy would be searching the hallway as he never entered the bathroom other than to peer from the doorway, Bonnie would still remain on the other side of the restaurant, and Chica…

The door slowly creaked open, the smell of rotten flesh assaulting your nose like a slap in the face.  With watering eyes, you could just see into the dim light.  You could see the familiar pale orange feet slowly moving, the rusty metal claws scratching the tile.  There was music playing… the assholes must have activated the facility’s sound system again.  It sounded like a bit of the old sea shanty that the owners’ had “Foxy” sing, long before he was broken beyond repair.  As the door shut behind her there was a small, gasping, exhale, poisoning the air even more with the foul stench.  Closing your eyes, you kept your body completely still to the cold tile, willing it not to move.  If you wanted to survive, you needed to avoid detection.

The claws, or talons, clicked on the ground as she waddled forward, seemingly peering into each of the stalls.  Another gasping exhale had you silently praying to survive the night.  You didn’t have to give two weeks’ notice for this crappy job.  All you needed to do was walk out the door, and never come back.  You would get your happily ever after, and the company can move onto the next sucker…

But that all counted on Chica not finding you under the sinks.

She took her sweet time, even stepping into the stalls to gaze even closer at the disgusting toilets.  She would push the door open, stare, take two steps in, and stare.  Like she was looking for a clue that wasn’t there.

Finally… finally, she left.  The door swung open and shut behind her, the smell slowly dissipating, claws slowly fading away.  You took a deep gasp, wiping at your face with your hands.  You had to stay with it, had to keep on moving.  Who knew when they would return for you?  The next time you might not be as lucky… you felt your body shudder in memory of the phone guy’s screams.  You did not want to find out his fate. 

The kitchen was just up ahead.  There were no cameras in there, but you knew from when you did your rounds that there was an emergency exit.  You were so close.  All you had to do was run out there, jump in your car and…

Your fingers paused at your empty pocket.  Where were your fucking keys?  Where was your phone?  Thinking back to the beginning of the night you realized that you had left both beside the computer, completely forgetting to grab them in your hurry to “escape”.  Fuck.  You supposed you could stand outside the facility until six but the homeless people and the high partiers were almost as dangerous as the animatronics.

There was a reason that they had security guards at this location after all.

There was no payphone nearby either… what could you do…

In your mind there was only one solution.  You had to somehow make it back to the office, grab your shit, and get the fuck out.  Your body became cold at just the thought of having to brave those hallways again.

But it was the only solution that you could think of.  Even your dorm room’s keys were on your keyring so, even if you could walk home, you weren’t going anywhere.

There really only was one solution.

You slowly pulled the door open a crack, listening closely.  Bonnie sounded like he was in the utility cupboard on the other side.  You could hear him rummaging about, always looking for something.  There was a loud crash from the kitchen, the sound of pots falling to the floor.  That’s where Chica was…. And Freddy… not hearing anything you allow yourself to look through the crack in the door.

Freddy… Freddy was back on stage.  He looked to be deactivated, chin on his bowtie.

So his rotation really did repeat.  You might have just got your lucky break.

Quietly creeping from the bathroom, you kept to the shadows of the dining room, aware of any sound, even the odd looping sounds coming from pirate’s cove.  Sounded like a bit of a shanty… yet Freddy did not move, Chica remained in the kitchen, and Bonnie seemed content with the rest of the masks in the closet.

Running into the little office you seized your keys and phone, not even pausing to thoroughly look over the desk.  Nothing else was important.  Grab them and get out.

Survive the night…

Stuffing your processions into your pockets you began to quietly jog into the other hallway.  If Chica was in the kitchen, you wouldn’t be using the kitchen exit.  That was a suicide mission.  There was another one near the backroom that you could use.  That one would be safer.  Especially if the animatronics were busy doing whatever else.

Oddly enough, there was no movement from any of them.  Chica was making a racket in the kitchen, and Bonnie seemed to still be in the closet.  And even if Freddy had moved from the stage, he would be coming along the same path that Chica did.  Time was of the essence.  If not lots of time, you at least had some time.

And that would need to be enough.

As you came into the hallway, you heard the harsh sound of metal grinding on metal, or metal being forced against one another, and of metal slapping on the tile floor.  It reminded you of when someone had come close to your father’s car…

But what…

There was a red blur, one that almost shot past the hallway.  The body skidding to a stop, trying to turn the heavy body to manoeuvre the corner.  The narrow face looking up at you with pale yellow lights, scanning you and freezing in place, the metal feet hooking into the nicks on the floor.

Foxy… there was no mistaking the robotic pirate fox.  Globs of the fake red fur were missing, and he was missing parts of his metal covering, but that hook and golden teeth were unmistakable.  He had paused when he had seen you, slowly taking in you in.  Calculating… the joints in his legs gave off a weird groaning sound as the clinked back into place, his stance becoming more crouched, hook extended towards you.  His narrow mouth opened, releasing a high pitched gasp and that disgusting, rotting smell.  Just what the fuck was up with the animatronics?  Were the owners that cheap to not have cleaned them since they opened?

You didn’t wait around for him.  You spun on your heel and ran the opposite direction, out the other doorway and into the empty hallway, puzzle pieces clicking your mind.  When they were allowed to wander the hallways, Foxy had raced children, even the old arcade game had him running.  Why wouldn’t the large version be able to run too?  Because the other animatronics were large, bulky, slow and heavy?  Because Foxy was supposedly out of order?  When was the last time that your employers had told you a full truth?

You realized, rather belatedly, that you could have closed the office door, at least distracted him, or even had closed both doors in the office and held up for the remainder of the night.  Glancing behind you, you saw the glint of a yellow eye, and a hook peeking out of the doorway…

Yeah, that was out of the question.  Your only hope was the exit.  Get out and get away.  Get out and get away.  The thought echoed through your mind, the need for survival overwhelming you.  Get out and get away.

Quickly running through the hallway, past the bathrooms and kitchen, you could have sworn that you saw Chica’s and Freddy’s eye lights looking at you.  But they didn’t move from their places, instead, they just stared at you as you ran past them.

Not making a single move to stop you.

This was unlike them, unlike anything that you had learned about their programming.  Was it Foxy making them act like this?  Making them act… out of character?

You were distracted.  You ran into the dining room, eyes still on the blue and purple lights behind you.  To your horror, you felt your foot step in something cool and smooth, without any grip.

The tablecloth!

With a loud and startled yelp, your legs went out from under you, causing you to fall on your tailbone and knocking the wind out from you.  You wheezed for a moment, your hands seeking to push you up, off the trap that you had unwittingly set yourself.  Dazed and confused, you kept tangling yourself up with the smooth plastic.

A metal hand seized your collar, slowly pulling you from the mess that you created.  There was the sound of rust and bolts, of straining hydraulics.  Looking up, it was rusty red furred arm that gripped you tightly…

Foxy.

No…

You began to struggle, twisting your weight, and digging your feet into the smooth floor, trying to use the ageing metal to your advantage.  He needed to have weakened metal, the fingers should snap, or open.  With a snarl you twisted your shoulder, loosening the grip for a moment.  Defying him.

Foxy looked down at you for a second, his lights flickering as if in confusion.  He had a lazy eyelid you noticed, one did not quite open the entire way.  He regarded you, even as your heels dug into the cracks of the floors, pushing you away from him.

To freedom…

To your surprise, he released the grip on your shoulder, quickly spinning in a way that should have been impossible for his gears…

Impaling your shoulder with his hook and dragging you further into the room.

You screamed in pain.  You could feel the metal rub against the bone, causing it to burn.  You could feel your blood dripping down your back.  Grasping at the hook, you tried to pull it off of you but to no avail.

There was another soft gasping sound.

Looking up you saw that you and Foxy had almost done a circle of the hallway, that he had dragged you into the utility closet, the one with the extra heads and bits of the animatronics.  Bonnie was there, staring at you and Foxy with that empty look in his eyes, before turning back to look at his creation.

There was a Freddy Fazbear suit, complete without any missing parts, assembled on the table.

You screamed and struggled, your flesh pulling and tearing, blood gushing from your wound.  You initially didn’t care, you needed to get away from them and their perverted programming.  All too soon the effects of blood loss began to kick in.  Your vision grew hazy, your strength weakened, and you began to tire.

As you struggled to find a way to keep your fight alive, a pair of arms pulled you off of Foxy’s hook and carefully lifted you into the suit.

Blue eye lights stared down at you as the suit closed over you, the parts beginning to snap into place.

You knew only pain, and then absolute darkness.

**Author's Note:**

> If you like what I do leave a kudos and comment and feel free to check out the rest of my work!


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